


the learning curve

by lilabut



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Best Friends, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mild Language, One Shot, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 09:22:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12454359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: Carol asks Daryl for comfort, but he's in over his head.





	the learning curve

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Caryl Bingo October 2017 Challenge on _Nine Lives_.

She's a mess by the time he gets to her place. Eyes red and swollen, hair ruffled and unkempt.

 

 

 

With a hiccuping breath, she lets him inside.

 

 

 

_What happened?_ Daryl asks in a panic, looking for any sign that she's hurt. Earlier, she'd called, asking him to come over. That she wasn't feeling too well and needed some company. But nothing had implied this.

 

 

 

With his old man already nursing his fourth bottle of beer, getting out of the trailer had seemed all too tempting and he made the trip across town to her neighborhood in no time.

 

 

 

Trimmed lawns and white picket fences all rowed up nicely.

 

 

 

A pretty facade.

 

 

 

Carol shakes her head, clutching a crumpled tissue to her chest.

 

 

 

_It's nothing,_ she breathes, clearly biting back more tears and wiping furiously at the ones still glistening on her flushed cheeks.

 

 

 

_Ain't nothin',_ he insists, taking a cautious step towards her. Maybe he should hug her, he thinks for a moment. But that's not something he does.

 

 

 

On the rare occasion it has happened over the years, Carol had always been the one to initiate it. One of the many reasons he still doesn't understand why she bothers being his friend. His best friend. For a long time her only friends until her friends over time became his by default.

 

 

 

_I'm stupid,_ she hisses, anger and frustration clear in her words. _I shouldn't even have called you, I'm sorry. This is-_

 

 

 

Her lip begins to quiver, soft and plump and pink but he ignores that. Reaches out and weakly rests a hand on her upper arm instead.

 

 

 

_Hey, 's all right,_ he murmurs, hoping that he sounds at least a little reassuring and comforting. This is a mile out of his comfort zone but he's willing to try for her. _Tell me what happened?_

 

 

 

She looks at him full of remorse. _I can't,_ she whispers.

 

 

 

_Okay._

 

 

 

A hollow, humorless laugh bubbles up from her throat, almost frightening him.

 

 

 

_I don't deserve you,_ she sighs, and then she's right there in his arms, her head tucked under his chin.

 

 

 

God, if only he knew how many times he thought that same thought, only the other way around. There's no logical reason for her to trust him like she does, to care so much for him.

 

 

 

_Stop,_ he rasps, only half-serious as he awkwardly pats her back. She calms down a little, but a few of her tears still stain his shirt, warm against his skin.

 

 

 

_Want me to leave?_ he asks when her breathing is more even, but she instantly shakes her head.

 

 

 

_No, please. Stay._

 

 

 

He'd never deny her a thing.

 

 

 

_Hey, how 'bout we watch that show ya talked about?_ he suggests, remembering she'd meant to make him watch it a few weeks ago. He'd bailed then, stuck in bed with the damn flu.

 

 

 

She pulls back and her eyes light up like fireworks on the 4th of July. But just as quickly, the smile falls from her face.

 

 

 

_I feel gross,_ she sighs, looking down at herself. Dressed in well worn pajamas, barefoot.

 

 

 

Even now she's beautiful to him.

 

 

 

_Don't bother me,_ he shrugs, and she rolls her eyes at that comment, playfully slapping his arm.

 

 

 

_You're an idiot,_ she teases. Clearly thinking for a moment, she claps her hands together. _How about I take a quick shower and you grab some food from the kitchen? My parents aren't home so we have the living room to ourselves._

 

 

 

Her sudden mood shift seems suspicious to him but he's not about to push her too far when she's not ready.

 

 

 

She's skilled at hiding when something troubles her. Always quick to put on a happy mask and he knows that this is what she's doing right now. Maybe she'll warm up to the idea of telling him eventually - clearly, she'd felt the urge earlier.

 

 

 

For now, he watches her hurry up the stairs. He waits just a moment, standing a little lost in the dimly lit hallway.

 

 

 

Kicking off his boots - muddy after all the rain from last week - he heads into the kitchen to find some food.

 

 

 

He's comfortable enough in her house to know his way around. He likes it here. Always feels welcome. It's comfortable in a way his own shithole of a home never could be.

 

 

 

The fridge is bursting with more food than his own sees in a month, and he's a little overwhelmed, trying to figure out what to grab. In the end, he reaches for a small bowl of strawberries, washes them in the sink as he hears the shower upstairs. Melting some chocolate in the microwave, he tries hard not to think too much about Carol up there. Naked.

 

 

 

Jesus, he's a creep.

 

 

 

After the chocolate is done, he dips the strawberries into the hot liquid. It's Carol's favorite treat, maybe a little decadent for just a movie night. But in his opinion, she deserves all the good things all the time.

 

 

 

He throws a bag of popcorn into the microwave too, listening to it popping, hands propped against the granite counter top.

 

 

 

_Is that popcorn?_ Carol calls from the hallway, and a second later her head is peeking into the kitchen. She's wearing a fresh shirt, grazing the tops of her knees, some tight black leggings underneath. Her hair is still damp but already curling delicately around her head.

 

 

 

His mouth goes dry and he stares for a moment too long, clearing his throat.

 

 

 

_Yeah. Got eh- got these two,_ he stutters, pointing at the strawberries.

 

 

 

She gasps, crossing the kitchen in two bouncing steps.

 

 

 

_You're the best,_ she exclaims, popping one of the strawberries into her mouth. He blushes hard at the comment, every fiber of his being refusing to believe it.

 

 

 

Of course, Carol notices. He's like an open book to her too often. A fact he resents.

 

 

 

_I mean it,_ she insists softly, her hand briefly reaching out to squeeze his upper arm. _I'd be a little lost without you._

 

 

 

He huffs at that, unable to imagine a world in which Carol wouldn't fight her way through.

 

 

 

_Stop._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He ate way too much popcorn. The buttery, sugary taste is clinging to his tongue, and his stomach growls in resentment.

 

 

 

Someone is crying on the television screen, a mother mourning her son. But he hardly pays it any attention.

 

 

 

Carol is shivering, arms wrapped around herself as she blankly stares at the tv. For all her efforts to get him to watch this and her earlier attempt at pretending she's all right, she's failing now.

 

 

 

Her eyes glisten and her bottom lip quivers, holding back tears with all the strength that she has.

 

 

 

For the past few minutes, he chose to ignore it and give her space. But it's becoming harder and harder to watch her suffer.

 

 

 

_Ya cold?_ he asks lamely, trying desperately to find a way in.

 

 

 

She sniffs, clears her throat. Almost like he woke her from a trance. _A little,_ she whispers with a slight nod, and he can see the way her fingers tremble.

 

 

 

_Come 'ere._ The words cost him all his courage and he wants to run the moment they leave his lips. She's just going to laugh him off and turn him down.

 

 

 

That's what he prepares himself for when he opens his arms.

 

 

 

_Thank you,_ she whispers instead, and a second later he has an arm full of Carol. Curling into his side, pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his torso.

 

 

 

She feels so breakable.

 

 

 

It takes him a few seconds to adjust. At first, his body is overwhelmed, conditioned to reject all forms of physical contact, completely unfamiliar with intimacy. But the tension soon fades and he awkwardly wraps his arm around her, running his hand up and down her arm in hopes of warming her a little.

 

 

 

For a little while, that seems to do the trick. She's quiet and still except for the steady rise and fall of her chest, seemingly focused on the tv screen. But then, slowly, whatever is so clearly on her mind seems to catch up with her.

 

 

 

She starts trembling in his arms. Lightly at first, barely noticeable. Then more. Enough for him to realize she's crying even before he can feel the warmth of her fresh tears soaking through his shirt. Before he can hear her breathless little sobs and whimpers.

 

 

 

_Hey,_ he breathes, pulling back enough to look down at her but keeping his arm wrapped around her. Pressing his palm against her back more than moving it now. Hoping that maybe this might ground her. _What's wrong?_

 

 

 

She sucks in a sharp breath, looking up at him. Finally meeting his eyes and not making any effort to hide the truth. There's terror and shame in them, evident also in the way she wipes the tears from her cheeks even though they keep flowing steadily.

 

 

 

_I'm so stupid,_ she gasps. _So stupid._

 

 

 

His brows furrow in confusion. Usually, she's strong, determined. Not at all this self-deprecating. It always suited him better, and even after all her hard work to convince him otherwise he still falls back into those old patterns time and time again.

 

 

 

But he can't let the same thing happen to her. _Y'ain't stupid, Carol,_ he reassures her, giving her upper arm a light squeeze.

 

 

 

It doesn't help.

 

 

 

_I am,_ she insists, wiping her nose on her sleeve and staring down defiantly at her lap. _I should never- He was.... I should have listened to you._ She sounds defeated and exhausted, like she has held all this back for quite some time. He has barely seen her all week, working a few extra shifts a the garage after school. They haven't seen each other all that much lately anyway, not since she started hanging out with Peletier. _To all of you,_ Carol continues, shaking her head. _I can't-_

 

 

 

_Carol, ya gotta help me out here,_ he interrupts her, completely at loss. All he wants to do is help her somehow, but he can't even figure out what's wrong. It's got to be about Peletier, and he's not surprised it has come to this. The guy is an asshole, a bully, a complete piece of crap but with a charming smile and sugary words that lure people in. Even now Daryl feels a sting of pain at the thought of Carol actually falling for the guy. _What happened?_

 

 

 

Carol pulls away from him then, leaving him behind cold and empty. With a sigh, she wraps her arms around herself, holding herself together. _Ed, he-_

 

 

 

_He hurt ya?_

 

 

 

Anger flares inside his veins, fingers curling into white-knuckled fists at the thought of the guy laying a hand on her. He'll kill him if he hurt her.

 

 

 

_No,_ Carol mutters, eyes cast downwards. Then, barely noticeable, she shakes her head. _Yes. I mean- He didn't, not like-_ Everything she says only confuses Daryl more. It's a mess of breathless sobs, whispered into the dark room and mingling with the upbeat song on the tv. _I slept with him, Daryl,_ she finally explains, barely loud enough for him to understand.

 

 

 

When she looks up, his heart breaks at the sight. She looks fractured, ashamed. Like Ed took something from her and she's only now allowing herself to show that gaping emptiness to him.

 

 

 

_Oh._ He has to bite back his own disappointment, the jealousy that has settled so firmly in his guts. Ain't like he ever had a chance with her anyway, but he did not think her and Peletier were that serious and that she would ever go that far with him.

 

 

 

_I know,_ Carol sighs, misinterpreting his lackluster reaction and shaking her head. Her tears have simmered down a little, mostly just caught in her lashes now. Glistening there. _I'm so stupid. I never should have done it but he was- I felt like I had to,_ she confesses and that alone makes the rage inside of Daryl boil again. He can only imagine the shit that asshole told her and made her believe. _Everybody else has and he wanted me and-_ She cuts off then, looking so utterly defeated that all he wants to do is reach out and hold her again.

 

 

 

But something is different now. There's a shift and he can't move. Recoils at the thought because he still hurts. This is always going to hurt. Yet, the only one truly suffering here is Carol, and he needs to be there for her. Especially because she's trusting him with this.

 

 

 

_It was awful, Daryl,_ she murmurs, her arms tightening around herself as she seemingly shrinks into the cushions. _I feel so-_ Her unspoken words linger heavily in the air around them.

 

 

 

He has no clue what to say. How to make her understand that she did nothing wrong. How to help her feel better about herself when it's something that can't be undone.

 

 

 

But when she talks again, all quiet and frail like she's afraid to tell him, he finally snaps back into conscientiousness. _And after, he said... He said I was terrible at it._

 

 

 

His teeth grind as he holds himself together. Calms himself.

 

 

 

In her face, he can see that she believes what Ed told her. It's evident in the quiver of her lips and the distance in her eyes.

 

 

 

_Car_ _ ol, hey, _ he finally says, keeping his voice soft despite feeling every muscle in his body going rigid.  _ Don't ya listen to that prick. Anyone's awful at it, 's gotta be him. _ Carol huffs out a humorless laugh, the damage that ass left behind written clear across her features. Slowly, Daryl reaches out, resting his hand loosely on her arm. She doesn't flinch, and he figures that's a good sign.  _ Son of a bitch don't deserve ya,  _ he murmurs, soothing his thumb over her skin in slow circles.

 

 

 

She shudders, eyes falling shut and then she falls forward. Lets him catch her in his arms and pull her against him as she deflates. All the tension leaving her body. She's limp against him, a heavy, dead weight. Surrendering.

 

 

 

_But what if he's right?_ she asks quietly, her head resting against his shoulder. Curls of auburn hair tickling his chin and jaw in the most delicate way. _What if I_ am _terrible at it?_

 

 

 

Blood rushes into his cheeks, tinting them crimson and making him feel like he's gleaming. He's glad she can't see that right now.

 

 

 

What the hell is he supposed to say to that? His mind drifts down dangerous and so damn inappropriate paths. All those daydreams and late night fantasies coming back to haunt him. How she'd look and feel and sound. He always felt like an ass for even thinking about her like that, but never more than now.

 

 

 

_'m sure y'ain't,_ he mutters, caught between wanting to sound reassuring and not like a complete creep. _'sides, learning curve, right?_ he suggests, trying to sound light when in reality, he has no fucking idea what he's talking about. It could be quantum physics for all he knows.

 

 

 

Carol, however, laughs softly. Just the slightest quiver and then she looks up, chin propped against his collarbone. A smile curls her lips, shy and sweet. All too quickly, though, it fades away. Just the echo of it remaining in his heart.

 

 

 

But there's no shame in her eyes right now. She looks almost... curious. For a moment, she looks at him, long enough to make him squirm, and when her eyes dart down to his lips he has to bite back a groan. She's never been quite this close before, and they've never had this type of conversation. He shouldn't let this mind wander right now, not after she showed him so much trust.

 

 

 

But he does. Imagines how easy it would be to breach the distance between them and taste her lips. Peel away those clothes and feel her silky skin. Show her that it can be different. Give her good memories.

 

 

 

Only, he knows he'd only fuck up and make it all worse.

 

 

 

_Have you e_ _ver-_ she begins to ask, leaving the question hanging. He's not dumb. Knows exactly what she's talking about.

 

 

 

For a moment, he considers lying. There's no way for her to prove it anyway and he might as well just use one of Merle's old flings to find some inspiration. But she doesn't deserve to be lied to, and he knows she won't make fun of him for the truth.

 

 

 

Still, he's ashamed when he shakes his head. Looks away at the credits rolling down the black screen.

 

 

 

When he feels her hand on his cheek, he nearly bolts off the couch. It's a tender, light touch. Curious, testing the waters. But _fuck_ her hand is warm and soft and delicate and after a moment of tension he finds himself instinctively leaning into her touch.

 

 

 

_It didn't mean anything, you know,_ she whispers, suddenly close enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath against his parted lips. Close enough to count the freckles dusted across her nose and cheekbones. Close enough to see the tears that still cling to her lashes. _I wanted it to mean something. But I didn't really care about him._

 

 

 

There's no use denying that hearing that is the best thing he could have hoped for. He never understood what she saw in Peletier, but it wasn't any of his business to tell her more than he did. Fleeting warnings. Just like all her other friends did.

 

 

 

_Better that ya don't,_ he mutters, his voice hoarse and strained from the lump that has formed in his throat.

 

 

 

God, she's so beautiful, even now. Especially now. But he can see a bad decision staring to form in her eyes, can feel the way her touch on his cheek firms and slowly slides down to his neck.

 

 

 

As much as he may want to be weak and selfish, he can't let her make this mistake. Can't let her take this step for all the wrong reasons.

 

 

 

_I care about you,_ she whispers, sending a jolt of heat down his spine that settles in his guts but he tries to ignore it. His heart skips a beat at the sound of the words, something she has never downright said to him before.

 

 

 

And certainly never with the implications that are woven into each syllable now.

 

 

 

He gives her a weak smile, the corner of his mouth twitching, before shifting on the couch. It's subtle enough to not feel like he's pushing her away – or so he hopes – but enough for her to not be so damn close anymore. She sighs, leaning against his shoulder and moving her hand from his neck.

 

 

 

_Care 'bout ya too,_ he rasps then, the words spilling from his mouth before he can stop himself. Most likely, he thinks, because this might be the only chance he'll ever get to say them without sounding like a fool.

 

 

 

Carol nestles further into him, her hand finding his. Delicate fingers entwining with his.

 

 

 

_I know that, Daryl,_ she whispers. Softly, she presses her lips to the curve of his shoulder. Just the barest amount of pressure.

 

 

 

It's the best thing he has ever felt.


End file.
